Sit Still, Look Pretty
by nottheonlyfanaround
Summary: In which Fleur reminisces on how lucky she is to have met Bill.


House: Ravenclaw

Year: Head

Word Count: 2943

Category: Bonus

Prompt(s): [Theme] Pursuit, [Colour] Sarcoline, [Object] Frying Pan

* * *

Fleur stood in the kitchen of her apartment, frying pan in hand, trying to remember how to turn on the stove. Her brows were furrowed in a mix of confusion and deep concentration. She contemplated whether it had been a _good_ idea to buy a muggle apartment. Her sarcoline features were scrunched, eyes closed as she tried to remember the steps Hermione had explained to Arthur last Christmas.

A chuckle brought her out of her thoughts, head snapping to the doorway. Bill stood in the doorway. Her eyes traced the lines of his scars as she looked at him; they were softer than they had been, though still quite a contrast to his sarcoline features. Crimson crept up Fleur's neck as she gestured to the stove with the frying pan.

"I can't figure out 'ow to turn it on," she mumbled as Bill walked towards her. Her accent had faded slightly over the years, no longer as strong as it had been before the war. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head before moving to a different spot on the counter and making himself a cup of coffee.

"You'll figure it out. You're smart like that," he replied with laughter in his tone. Fleur couldn't help but smile at his words. She was both glad and disappointed he hadn't offered to help. After all, they both knew she was too stubborn to have accepted the offer if it was presented. Her smile grew larger. It was in moments like these that she was glad she had met Bill Weasley. He was kind and loyal, loving and funny. Ever the optimist, he believed in her more than anyone else had. But above everything else, he never _once_ doubted her intelligence.

All her life Fleur had always been too pretty to be smart. Her mother always cooed over her, dressing her up in elegant gowns like a doll. Adorning her in luxurious jewelry like a mannequin. She was supposed to stand still and smile, to bring honor to her family name by being a silent beauty. As a child - no older than five or six - she had loved the constant attention, people constantly fretting over her and giving her beautiful gifts.

But then she began preparing herself for Beauxbatons, and that was when her pursuit for _more_ started. At age seven she tried showing her parents how good she was at casting spells, how advanced she was at magic at such a young age. How she was brilliant at math, able to do most simple equations in her head. That didn't matter, because her perfect sarcoline features took priority over her sharp mind, her sapphire eyes over her caring heart. Her delicate hands over her fierce determination. Since then she was determined to find someone who saw more than just her looks. She would pursue that goal till she finally found what she was looking for.

At the mere age of eight she confessed, though hesitantly, to her first friend that she felt people didn't wait to get to know her before dismissing her as an airhead. Just another dumb blonde. But the girl just laughed scornfully, bitterness evident.

"What a _shame_ it must be to have been born so beautiful," she'd said, malice in her tone.

Fleur had thought her pursuit was over that day, when she'd worked up the courage to tell her friend.

She was surprised at how wrong she was. From that moment on she kept her struggles to herself.

She started Beauxbatons at eleven, amidst blatant stares, people wide eyed as she passed them in the halls. They whispered to each other, stinging words that they made sure Fleur heard. She heard the hushed voices of her dormmates as they spoke about her when they thought she was sleeping.

" _Look at her,_ " was something that was said often, they were the words that filled most of the hushed murmuring. " _All beauty and no brains._ "

She knew within the first day of starting school that she wouldn't find someone here, someone who would be able to look past her beauty and see her brains. Her pursuit changed slightly, changed from pursuing someone, to pursuing something. She figured that the result of her pursuits would be - if everything went as she had planned - recognition for her scholarly achievements.

In her first transfiguration lesson she completed the transfiguration assignment within the first six minutes, the proud smile that rested on her face being wiped off as people claimed it was all a fluke. Her determination burned brighter after that. She swore she would prove them all wrong. And so she finished first in charms, herbology, defense against the dark arts, and potions. She came top of the class, and yet still not given even a shred of respect. So she took it, forced it airily out of gritted teeth, snatched it out from clenched fists, and she won it from the begrudging.

Then she turned seventeen, the only female competitor on the Triwizard Stage. The only one out of four champions, and here she was facing a new crowd. A brand new batch of doubters, naysayers, people who looked incredulously at her as she walked through the halls. Staring in disbelief at her flowing blond hair, at her lovely sarcoline features, focusing on that instead of her bright spirit and razor sharp mind. She brushed it off, tried to ignore it because she'll show them all one day. Let them believe what they wish, in the end they'll feel fooled, because she'll do all she can to prove them wrong.

The first task arrived, Madame Maxime telling her it wa dragons. Her heart leapt into her throat in that moment, dread filling her. Because what if she couldn't do it, what if she _failed_? She didn't want to think about it, the laughter, the haughty looks she would be given because they would feel right in their assumptions. She'd shaken it off, spending most of her time with Gabrielle in the library, reading over everything and making absolutely sure she was prepared. The task was simpler than she'd originally thought, her dragon tamer than most others, she wondered whether it was luck or another obstacle in her pursuit.

She was given a clue in the magical egg she'd won from the first task, and she was immediately relieved. The screeching that came out of the egg was comforting in a way because she knew where she'd heard it before. Merpeople, was her conclusion, as she dunked the egg underwater, sticking her head under with it. The message was chilling, but she knew it was nothing she couldn't handle. Fleur searched the halls in the days nearing the second task, searching for sarcoline skin that looked just like her own.

Merpeople lived underwater - that much was obvious to Fleur - so she supposed the place this task would occur at would be the Black Lake. A bubble-head charm, she realized, would be the best course of action. Cedric Diggory had the same idea, and at this Fleur felt both relieved and slightly irked. Relieved because it gave her idea some credibility to the uncertain crowd, but irked because it was yet another obstacle, people would think she'd copied the Hufflepuff boy. She was nearly certain of that.

She caught sight of Gabrielle, her little sister whose normally sarcoline skin was now almost deathly pale. Grindylows slowed her down, her charm failing, causing her to have to swim back up to the surface. Fleur knew it was her own fault, her plan not exactly flawless. She was one to admit fault, to admit that she made mistakes, but then she would work to fix them. To correct them and make sure the mistakes didn't happen again. Crimson flushed across her as she realized on what a massive scale she'd made a mistake, three whole schools watched her make the mistake. A blanket was wrapped around her shivering form.

"I deserve zero," she couldn't help but mutter as the scores were announced. Her dainty arms were wrapped around her little sister, embracing the girl as her skin slowly turned back to its original sarcoline color.

A sigh escaped her lips. The task was just another setback, her achievements thus far being - at least in her eyes - absolutely tarnished. The third task was even worse as she honestly couldn't remember most of it. All she knew was that someone died, and that Harry Potter claimed Voldemort was back. Her English wasn't great, so most of it was left to her own interpretations and loose guesses.

In the summer of 1995 things finally began to change. She was recognized as more than her looks, at least by some people. Most she knew in France saw her as the beautiful Triwizard Champion who'd finished third. Her parents still tried dressing her up like a doll, and so with a tearful farewell she decided to go to London. She had to get out, stop suffocating in her old life, and perhaps while she was in London she would do something _great_. But first, she realized, she'd need to improve her English. So she started a part-time job at Gringotts Bank.

There she met a red-headed man with long hair who worked a desk job, and was tasked with supervising Fleur. He had warm brown eyes that stood out against his sarcoline skin - she decided that they gave him depth. She was intrigued, to say the least. He was incredible, courageous and brave, outgoing and adventurous. He wasn't too bad looking either. Her English improved everyday, and she was sure that with Bill's help she would be able to get a full time job by the end of the year.

He started pursuing her romantically after a few months. She wasn't blind, seeing his subtle advances, the way he sheepishly flirted with her. She'd seen things like this a lot at school, boys and girls both trying to get in a relationship with her. Studying had been more important to her, however, and so she brushed their advances off. She wondered faintly if Bill was after her because of her smooth sarcoline skin, and her flawless features. Even so, she agreed to a date, trying to tell herself it wouldn't mean anything.

They ordered a butterbeer each, Fleur getting a meat dish she couldn't recall the name of and Bill getting a large salad. She found herself smiling throughout the meal, laughing at most of Bill's jokes. To her great surprise, he started asking her about her life. How Beauxbatons was, how different she thought it was from Hogwarts, if she liked it in London, and many other questions. All of which she decided to answer, she found herself elaborating on things, and she gestured with her arms when she spoke.

"You know," he said after she'd explained the difference in muggle math and arithmancy to him. "You're one of the smartest people I know."

This took her by surprise. Her heart filled with warmth, and she almost felt like crying. No one had ever said that to her before.

They began dating shortly after that. Then a year after that they got engaged. Fleur couldn't have been happier. Here she was, engaged to a man who couldn't care less about her looks, the first person who'd not dismissed her intelligence.

It was the summer of 1996 when she went to get to know Bill's family at the Burrow. She tried not to let her mood dampen at the less than warm welcome. Harsh glares were given to her by Hermione, Ginny, and Molly. Bill had said it would all pass over, that they were just not used to having Fleur around. She supposed it was the shock that hit her the hardest, she'd been living with Bill for a year. Bill who saw her for more than her looks. She had just assumed his family would be the same.

They were similar in many ways, each of them sporting red hair, brown eyes, and sarcoline skin. But their views were very different - while Bill was adventurous, Fleur got a feeling that his family wasn't. But, like with every other challenge she'd faced, determination grew in her, because she would prove them wrong. She would prove that she was right for Bill, that they were perfect together. Her accent was strong, but her English was much better than it had been before, something she was proud of. Because of this she understood the whispers, understood what Hermione and Ginny said behind her back. Knew that Molly thought Tonks a better fit for Bill.

It wasn't until a little after she arrived, that Bill finally told her about the Order of the Phoenix. It was an organization that was created to fight Voldemort. The exact opposite of Death Eaters. Fleur insisted on joining right away. As war was being threatened she wanted to have others who would be able to look out for her family. Each day she grew more and more worried about her parents and little sister.

"Go see them, we'll be fine for a few days," Bill said softly to her one night, and Fleur was sure he was just as terrified as she was that something bad might happen while they were apart. Despite this, they agreed that Fleur would go back to France for a short while, so she could visit her family and make sure they were safe.

A battle was going on at Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower, Bill was a part of this fight, and Fleur just _knew_ she had to get there and help. But when she arrived it was too late; he'd already been hurt by Fenrir Greyback. A scar ran down his face, something Fleur thought made him look so much braver. She didn't care if he was a werewolf or not, she loved him either way.

"It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!" Fleur retorted when Molly said they would have to call off the wedding. Did she think it was nothing but vanity inside of Fleur? Perhaps that would explain her hostile behavior, she supposed.

"Well, yes, I'm sure, but I thought perhaps — given how — how he —" Molly had tried, and Fleur only grew more and more offended. This woman knew _nothing_ about their love.

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?"

The older woman looked rather sheepish at Fleur's words and left the two to catch up shortly after. Bill had looked up at her with an eyebrow raised, silent amusement dripping off of him. The wedding went on relatively as planned. Fleur couldn't help but be a little offended that Molly liked her mother more than her. But this was her wedding day, she'd decided. She looked lovely in her white wedding dress, it made her sarcoline skin almost glow. Nothing was going to ruin this perfect day, she thought firmly. Until something did.

The war began, and she fought valiantly, taking down more Death Eaters than she could count, Bill by her side through it all. They'd lost Fred in the war, he was gone, his family mourning. She was his family too though, and so she followed suit. Comforting Bill was one of her top priorities, and in the first few months after the war she was the only one holding a job. She didn't want to put pressure on Bill to have to provide for her. She was capable of providing for the both of them by herself.

Now, a year later, she stood in front of a stove, frying pan in hand as she tried to figure out how the damn contraption worked. She'd been trying to figure it out for an hour, Bill having since finished his coffee and moved to the living room. She'd wanted to make pancakes for breakfast, the little sarcoline circles a treat both she and Bill enjoyed. But she still couldn't figure out how this thing worked. There were little knobs on the front of the stove, she decided to turn one and see what happened. Flames flickered to life and she smiled in triumph, placing the metal pan onto the stove and beginning to make pancakes.

"I knew you could do it," came Bill's bright voice a few minutes later. He walked into the kitchen, mail in hand. The sound of a chair screeching alerted Fleur to the fact that Bill was sitting at their kitchen table.

"Wow," Bill said, shocked. She turned her head slightly towards him, eyebrow raised. "The British _and_ French Ministries want to award you medals for your bravery."

Fleur searched his face, trying to see if he was joking. She wondered if he knew that this was what she'd been pursuing since she was young. Sure it wasn't for her academic achievements, but finally the world would see her as something more than a beautiful face. She grabbed the letter from him as he moved to take over at the stove. A smile slipped onto her sarcoline features.

This was a long time coming, the end of a long, tiring journey. She had finally gained recognition. This would mean she wouldn't have to pursue acknowledgement anymore, she would finally be widely known for more than her beauty. This was the end result of her pursuits. Perhaps, if people had looked closer to her as a child they would have seen that she would one day be acknowledged for great things.

After all, Fleur Delacour was always too smart to _just_ be pretty.


End file.
